


Coney Island

by ravenhowlett



Series: Love is Not For Children [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Captain America: The First Avenger, Coney Island, Gen, Pre-Fall, The train scene, btw it's tagged james/nat because it's part of my james/nat fic, bucky has a rosary, bucky needs medical attention, but there's no actual james/nat action sorry for the disappointment, obviously, winter soldier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2371031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenhowlett/pseuds/ravenhowlett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'll tell you what, Steve, the first dame I see when we get back home better be a redhead or I swear I'll eat my boot."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coney Island

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is a bit heavy. Obviously. Someone stop me before I ruin the characters! Very sorry if it's too graphic for some readers. I tried not to make it too awful. Please let me know where there is room for improvement!

There's a fall, long and terrifying with multiple bumps along the way. The landing is abrupt, which is alarming. But then it's not a landing at all, just a small slanted ledge with nothing to grasp onto at a moment's notice. The true landing is much worse than what was expected, but then again, nobody ever thought they'ed survive a fall like this one.

_"I'll tell you what, Steve, the first dame I see when we get back home better be a redhead or I swear I'll eat my boot," Bucky says from in front of the small cracked compact mirror in his hands. (It's for strictly strategical reasons, I swear Steve, I ain't that vain!) He's examining the shallow scrape on the right side of his neck from when a bullet whizzed past him yesterday. "She's gotta be real soft so I can put my hands all over her no problem, and she's gotta let me treat her on a date every chance we get."_

_Steve glances up from the sketchbook in his lap and notices that Bucky is just plain staring at himself now. "That sounds real nice, Buck." Their eyes meet through the reflection of the mirror for a moment before Bucky looks back to himself. "Tell me more about this dream girl of yours. You gonna take her out dancing all the time? Kiss her in bars and make all the other fellas jealous?"_

_"Hell no! Ain't gonna be that promiscuous type no more when we get home. I'll take her to dinner, maybe see a film if I got enough green that week. Make her think I'm a stand up guy who knows what he's doin' with a beautiful gal on his arm." Bucky snaps the compact mirror shut and shoves it deep into one of his coat's pockets. "She'll be Misses Barnes and we'll have three kids and we'll live long enough to see our grandchildren whippin' round in one of them flying Stark cars like at that convention."_

_Steve's expression is soft at the memory of the science convention they went to. He only recalls seeing the car in the air for a moment before he turned around to find that recruiting area. "That Howard's a smart guy but I think his goals are a bit ahead of our time." Bucky's grin is bright and smug. "I bet by the time all our kids are fully grown, his kids are gonna be coming up with new and better things for the future."_

_"Yeah... Y'know, I think it'll be real sweet to see my kids grow up in the future, one that they won't have to see all the shit we seen so far... and are still seein'." "_

_You ever wonder if our kids'll be best friends like you an' me?" Steve asks as he sets his sketchbook to the side. Bucky rolls his eyes._

_"Course they will, Stevie." Bucky's smile is warm and it meets his eyes. "Who do you think's gonna teach your kids how to shoot tin cans off a fence with a slingshot like you and me did when we were small?"_

_"The future generation's gonna grow up to be reckless hooligans if they've got us as parents," Steve says as if it's the truest fact he's ever known. Bucky nods._

_"You're absolutely right, Steve."_  

The sky is getting darker and the snow is freezing the blood on his body. He hasn't moved for several hours, afraid of letting the pain take him under. When the temperature is finally too low to handle he tries to pull his arms closer to conserve what little warmth is left. There's a deep ache in his right wrist but the throb of his left shoulder is worse. He'd spent hours refusing to assess his condition. Only now that he glances down does he realize the true carnage that remains of his left arm.

His legs are shaky but feel mostly intact, save for minor cuts and scrapes and maybe a bit of blood in his boots. He rolls to his right to try to push himself up but it takes more effort than it's worth and a sharp cry rips from his throat. When he settles back into the snow, his fetal position as mindful of what's left of his arm as possible, he remembers that he's in foreign territory. He shoves his right hand into the pouch on his belt and fishes out his trusty NR-40 that Steve gave him a few months back. When his shaky hand pulls the sheathed knife from his pocket, out falls a strand of beads. A rosary.

He squeezes the cross with all his strength. "Please, please God," he begs. "Help me. Please help me, God. I don't wanna die. Please don't let me die like this, please God."

As the sky is once again getting brighter and Bucky's voice has gone hoarse from begging and praying and crying the whole night, he thinks it's effort wasted. The hope that someone might find him and help him soon enough is beginning to fade away. He knows it's a miracle that he's survived this long considering all the blood he's lost, but honestly he's more than a little nauseated at the thought of the meal his corpse will provide to whatever animals seek out his scent.

As if it were perfect timing, Bucky hears a twig snap in the distance. It could just be a rabbit, but it could also be wolves. He really should have learned the fauna of every region he fought in, it would have been interesting knowledge to pass down to his children when they were old enough for these stories. As luck would have it though, it's neither of those animals coming to feast on his disfigured flesh. In fact, he recognizes the sounds within the trees as hushed whispers. Such sweet, welcomed sounds, like music to his ears. The last time Bucky was this happy, he was being rescued from certain death by his best friend.

Unfortunately Bucky's extreme blood loss has muddled his mind, and he doesn't consider the thought that whoever's in those trees might be the enemy and not his best friend come to save him again. He licks his blue lips and rasps out "Help me" several times until he coughs on the phlegm in his throat. He coughs until he tastes blood and the whispering has stopped and God, he just wants to be saved.

A moment later there's rushed footsteps and more hushed whispering.

"S-Steve...?" Bucky croaks and blood and spit and phlegm dribble down his chin. "Somebody..."

Bucky is so overwhelmed with the knowledge that Steve is about to save him that his vision blurs. When it comes back there are figures standing above him but neither of them look like Steve. He doesn't even recognize them as any of his fellow Commandos, especially when he realizes they're not speaking English. He thinks it sounds like Russian...

A moment later he feels himself being dragged along the snow. It burns as it passes under his broken body. He glances down at his throbbing arm again and remembers that there's no arm to look at anymore. Just a mangled mess of flesh and veins and bone and blood and ice.

"... don'twannadie," he manages to breathe before he finally loses consciousness.

_"_ _This isn't payback, is it?"_

_"Now why would I do that?"_


End file.
